


Consolation Prize

by sian_jpg



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan Fluff, Phanfiction, Strangers to Lovers, rated teen for dan howell's dirty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9990254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian_jpg/pseuds/sian_jpg
Summary: "No, the whole being stood up thing is just about manageable, if he can avoid bursting into tears when he asks for the cheque. What really pisses him off is when he’s half-an-hour into sitting alone, all the breadsticks in the free bread basket gone and Dan’s on his third tap water and his first vodka, his heart justhasto fall for the next cute guy he sees sitting at the opposite table, because apparently he’s still fourteen years old and horny and desperate andChrist, those eyes can’t actually be real."or, the one where dan & phil drink a lot of cocktails and start a two-person lonely hearts club.





	

It starts like this.

The restaurant is some chain Italian Dan’s never heard of before, resulting in him chanting the name, address and reservation over and over in his head like he’s in some kind of cult. Cameron is a hot guy with a name and face directly mail-to-order from the Hollister catalogue who wrote his number on Dan’s receipt in the coffee shop two streets from his flat – and yeah, maybe it’s completely superficial and maybe there’s barely any connection between them at all. 

Maybe it’s all directly out of the beginning of a daytime TV romcom - but maybe he needs a plus-one for his cousin’s wedding so his extended family don’t spent the evening trying to hook him up with girls he couldn’t care less about.

Maybe he doesn’t want to have to explain his relationships (or usual distinct lack of them) over and over again to people he’s met twice in his life, sick of having to correct pronouns and being talked down to like a child who doesn’t know any better, because apparently “law uni degree dropout” and “works in the video industry” and “flaming homosexual” just isn’t good enough for his families approval. Like he’s supposed to care. 

And maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t got laid in six months.  
Life’s full of possibilities. 

He decides on five minutes late, so he can act nonchalant and carefree and just enough like an asshole to appeal when he walks in - he ends up waiting in his car twenty metres from the front door, fifteen minutes to spare until their reservation time. His finger hovers over the “Call” button when Louise sends him a good luck text, but if he starts word vomiting his anxieties at her now he might not ever stop, so settles for the thumbs up emoji instead before quadruple checking the date, time and place. 

The atmosphere of the restaurant is loud and bright and oh-so slightly artificial, but Dan tries to ignore it, tries to look like his stomach isn’t auditioning for a career as a circus contortionist twisting itself into thousand knots all at once, and tries to scan the crowded tables of chatting people for a quiff of sandy blonde hair and one of those smiles that could charm you into renewing a gym subscription or donating fifty quid to some charity you’ve never heard of in a second.

(Following that train of thought, he also prays this whole thing isn’t some kind of elaborate rouse just for a sales pitch - even if that would conveniently explain why someone like Cameron would even look twice at someone like Dan.)

He’s soon taken out of his search by a girl about a foot shorter than he is clutching two drinks menus and a clipboard, with a wide smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Hi, welcome to Luigi’s! Do you have a reservation?”  
“Yeah...um...yeah. I do.” Dan says lamely, fumbling with his phone to find Cameron’s last name and pushing aside how ridiculous it is that he doesn’t even know that. The waitresses’ enthusiasm sounds about as fake as the rest of the place.

“Right, yeah, it should be booked under Cameron Matthews? I hope?” Dan laughs nervously but thankfully the girl ignores it, scanning the clipboard and circling it with a biro before giving him another smile.

“Table for two?”  
“Yeah...yeah.”  
“Okay, this way.”

She doesn’t make any more awkward small talk, to Dan’s relief, and doesn’t even bat an eyelid at Dan’s disappointed expression when he realises she’s lead him to empty table.

_He’s just running late. Stuck in traffic. Held up at work. Cheating with someone infinitely better than me. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously._

“Is this table alright for you, sir?”  
“Y-yeah, of course.” Dan begins to make a mental note never to say the word “yeah” again.  
“Can I get you a drink to start, while you wait for your...date?” The second of hesitation makes him want to set himself on fire. 

“Yeah...” – no – “...I mean, yes, thank you, I’ll just have some water, please.” Getting wasted before the date even starts would definitely be one of Dan’s worse ideas, and he’s had his fair few. 

She walks away and Dan nearly buries his face in the menus, opting instead to obsessively refresh his phone for any kind of explanation as to why Cameron is nowhere to be seen ten minutes after their reservation.

_Ravaged by angry bears. Accidentally caught up in an intense mafia shoot-out. Abducted by aliens. Already fucking someone infinitely better than me._

Dan sighs and puts his phone away. He’s sure (Is he a Cam? Is that too casual? Is Cameron too formal?) his date is just stuck in traffic and too responsible to text and drive at the same time. That’s got to be what happened, right? It’s only been a few minutes, anyway. He’s just panicking and over-reacting as usual. Everything’s fine.

He timidly checks the time again and starts digging into the breadsticks.

***  
It continues like this, because Dan’s head is stubborn and he’d say his heart was broken if he could actually remember his date’s last name. For now, it’s just sort of deflated and sad.

It’s around fifteen minutes later he starts to get pitying glances from the couple at Table 5, the more sympathetic waitresses who come over to refill his water eventually having enough sense to stop asking whether he’s ready to order from the main course menu. 

The people and the noise in the restaurant seem to slowly filter out as if Dan’s embarrassment is sending out kind of anti-romance signal – or maybe that’s just the ringing in his ears as he can feel everyone’s eyes on the empty seat in front of him. 

He checks his non-responsive phone for the nineteenth time in the last five minutes, holds his breath as he finally gives in and furiously types a text he continues to delete and rewrite six more times before settling on a sentence:

_“hey haha it’s dan, just checking you haven’t been abducted by aliens or something and i have the right place/time/day???”_

It starts off quirky and nonchalant with just the right hints of genuine concern, but as soon as Dan presses send it starts to sound pathetic and desperate as it reverberates around his head. The couple at Table 5 spare him another pitying glance and it takes all the willpower he has to restrain the urge to start repeatedly banging his head against the table. 

And when he sees the _“read, 20:27”_ another five minutes later but still gets no response, not even the grey text bubble with the three dots, his heart slowly deflates and his stomach drops out, anxiety leaving a bitter taste in his already dry mouth. It’s Dan’s fault, really.  
He should have known better, anyway. 

After what feels like years of being stared at by everyone left in the restaurant, the waitress cautiously approaches the table like a presenter in a fucking wildlife documentary, as if he’s some of kind of sad pathetic creature she could easily scare away (which he is, really, but he doesn’t need the whole room and entire staff knowing that). 

In the middle of him trying to decide if staying to eat or just standing up and leaving would be more embarrassing, she opens her mouth. 

“I’m sorry sir...would you like to order an appetizer on the house?”  
Dan swallows his pride and digs out the menu, pointing to the first thing he sees.  
“Excellent choice. Can I get you another water?”  
“Yeah.” Dan says, and as soon as she turns away, changes his mind. 

“No. Actually, can I get a Vodka Martini? Largest size you have, I don’t care.” She smiles and nods, Dan breathing a sigh of relief.

But that’s when a voice with a vaguely northern lilt sounds out behind them from the next table.

“That’s on me.”

Dan turns around, about to indignantly inform whoever it was that he can pay for his own drinks and he doesn’t need their pity – except that’s when he just so happens to lay his eyes on one of the most beautiful humans he’s ever seen.

Okay, so it’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s also like looking directly at a heavenly beam of sunlight – it turns out the voice comes from a tall, lanky and slightly gorgeous guy who can’t be much older than Dan, with a 2007 MySpace emo fringe and ethereal blue eyes that he could easily go swimming in. _Holy shit._

The waitress gives them both a questioning glance – but for once in his life Dan has actually been rendered speechless (and, for about the hundredth time, heavily infatuated), so all he can do is nod. The guy stares back at him for a good few seconds before smiling kindly at the vaguely bemused girl. 

“I’ll have another Blue Hawaii as well, if that’s okay.”  
She takes both their menus away and he turns his attention back on Dan, who is trying to process how the ethereal colour of those eyes can even tangibly exist in this universe and also how best to get into this guy’s pants. God, he feels like a stupid lovesick teenager again. He needs to pull himself together – falling for literally the next guy he sees after getting stood up is desperate even by Dan’s standards. He tries to close his mouth and collect himself into a cool smirk. 

“Thanks for the drink, but I really don’t need your sympathy in free vodka just because my date is an asshole.”  
“It isn’t a pity drink.” He shoots back and Dan raises an eyebrow, trying to fight a fond smile.  
“Really? What is it then?”  
“Well, I was, err, hoping it would maybe be an excuse for you to sit with me?” He says with a warm smile that assures his genuineness and an adorable kind of stuttered nervousness that proves he can’t be a total dick, and Dan’s instantly a goner. 

Naturally, though, it can never be so easy as a simple drink and the possibility of a tangible, real relationship (and a plus one to the wedding, he supposes, but that barely seems important anymore - despite that being the reason he even came here in the first place). Yes, of course he wants to sit with this adorable and undeniably attractive guy with the plaid button up and black skinny jeans who’s just offered to buy him a drink. 

Of course he wants to straddle him right here right now and take him out for coffee afterwards – but is he really that shallow?

“I mean, only if you want to, of course, it’s up to you – I totally get it if you don’t, but...yeah.” The guy rambles off hastily when Dan still hasn’t responded, but his panicky attempt to reassure him only makes him cuter which proves to only make the situation worse. 

Being stood up is one thing – all of Dan’s worst fears realised, anxiety the only thing forcing his heart to pump faster so he doesn’t flatline on the spot from humiliation alone, being put off ever dating again, etc, etc. The punch to both his gut and his self esteem hurts like hell, sure, and maybe he’ll never trust cute baristas in small quaint coffee shops with his number as long as he lives. But he’ll get over it, in time. 

After four pints of cookie dough, an empty bottle of wine and sobbing down the phone to Louise for three hours, he’ll feel right as rain.

No, the whole being stood up thing is just about manageable, if he can avoid bursting into tears when he asks for the cheque. What really pisses him off is when he’s half-an-hour into sitting alone, all the breadsticks in the free bread basket gone and Dan’s on his third tap water and his first vodka, his heart just _has_ to fall for the next cute guy he sees sitting at the opposite table, because apparently he’s still fourteen years old and horny and desperate and _Christ, those eyes can’t actually be real._

He just can’t help but question if he’s really so superficial and shallow that he doesn’t even give Cameron a second chance before moving on.  
_But, then again, shouldn’t he give this guy a first chance too?_

“Look, I’m really sorry, just...ah, just forget I said anything, I-“ The guy’s cheeks go red from embarrassment as Dan realises he’s been internal monologing for a good three minutes and promptly turns pink too.

“No no no, it’s fine. I...um...yeah. Maybe just one drink.” He says before he can overthink anymore, and his new hot date, because apparently this is a thing now, beams at him so sweetly he can’t help but smile back. 

“Great! I mean, yeah. You’re...um...great.” The guy blushes and stumbles over his words as Dan takes a deep breath and slides instantly into the booth opposite him, half-expecting Cameron to burst through the door and apologise for an actually genuine emergency only to catch Dan looking like a total ass. 

The door stays shut for now, though, and Dan decides to take that as a personal blessing from whoever or whatever holy might be up there to go for it with hot emo dude. Speaking of...

“I’m Dan, by the way.”  
“Oh yeah, right! I’m Phil.” _Phil._ It suits him like the kind smile he’s wearing does – although if he’s kind, that probably means he’s just buying Dan a drink because he feels sorry for him and doesn’t actually like him like that. That makes a lot more sense in his head, anyway. 

“So, Dan, what brings you to Luigi’s and the party that is Table 9?” Phil gestures to indicate the booth and Dan laughs his tense shoulders relaxing and his anxiety unravelling just a tiny bit.  
“First date. You?”  
“Six month anniversary.” Phil says it so casually it actually takes Dan a minute to process that he’s been sitting alone for all this time too, let alone that he’s in an obviously committed relationship – except from his grimace, maybe not anymore.

_Nice one Dan. Your relationship doesn’t even qualify as ending if it hasn’t even begun._

“Holy shit.”  
“Yeah...I’ve seen it coming for a while now, but I, ah, just didn’t think like this – an empty seat and a half-hearted “I’m sorry” text.”  
“I’m sorry.” Dan says, and then immediately realises how much he sounds like an idiot. 

“I mean, God, no, I really actually am – I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself this whole time and I wasn’t even expecting him to show up. I barely know him anyway, it’s just...”

“I know. Not exactly the best self-esteem boost.”  
“Yeah....” Dan trails off, every inch of his brain screaming at him to not trail off and keep the conversation going, because he already really likes this guy and doesn’t want to fuck up two dates (if this qualifies as a date) in one night. They end up in silence, just sort of quietly reflecting on their disaster prone love lives, and well, the catch is it’s actually _nice_. They just sort of stare into each other’s eyes and think about stuff until their drinks arrive.

“Vodka Martini and a Blue Hawaii?”  
“Yeah, um, yeah. That’s us, thank you.” Phil instantly brightens up again and leaning back comfortably into his seat as Dan takes his drink and the plate of olives he apparently ordered, only just realising how hungry he actually is.

“Hey, at least now I’ve got someone to share a drink with. We should start a club.” Phil sips his cocktail thoughtfully and Dan can’t help smiling a bit.  
“To being rejected.” He raises his glass and Phil chinks it with his own, grinning too.

“So, when you’re not chatting up sad rejected guys in restaurants, what do you do? Like, as a job, I mean.” Dan asks, practically chugging his vodka for some liquid courage and looking for any excuse to get to know the practical stranger he just agreed to have a drink with. 

“I make videos, actually. For the, um, Internet?” Phil says, rubbing the back of his neck, and Dan actually delights in the way his cheeks flare up as he jokingly raises an eyebrow.

“Wait, no, ah! That came out wrong, okay – not like that! I’m a Youtuber, actually.” He splutters slightly, blushing at the alternative X-rated career Dan’s suggesting and they both end up giggling, because they’re twelve, in the middle of the restaurant. (He wouldn’t mind doing X-rated stuff right there with him on that very table when his eyes light up like that, Christ on a bloody bicycle.)

“Really? That’s pretty cool – I tried making a couple videos when I was in uni, but I’m, um, not very interesting, so now I edit them instead.”  
“Shut up! I bet you’re a very interesting person really.”  
“Oh yeah? What kind of interesting person gets stood up on their first proper date in almost a year?”

“A person who’s just been going out with the wrong people, apparently.” Phil says with a flirty just-enough confidence and his heart seizes up a little as Dan overanalyses as many interpretations of that sentence as he possibly can in ten seconds. He swallows another sip of vodka.

“Well then – I guess we’ll just have to change that.”  
“Yeah, I think we just might.” 

***  
It ends like this, because the conversation and the intimacy that comes so easily with Phil is so rare to find in anyone, and after two hours sitting in the restaurant with five cocktails, one discarded plate of olives, two demolished main course meals and one piece of chocolate fudge cake between them, Dan decides Phil’s laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world and he’ll do anything to hear it as many times as he can. But, before it can end:

“Shut up! There is no way you got away with that.”  
“Hey, how was I going to know it was a fucking panic alarm? Trust me, if-” The comfortable, familiar banter they’ve somehow fallen into is rudely interrupted by a chime from Dan’s phone, one new message that makes his heart sink.

_“hey bby, rly sorry about missing tonight, something came up but i promise i’ll make it up to you ;) rearrange for next week??? – cam x”_

Rendered speechless again, he looks at Phil, who watches him concernedly and smiles a little sadly. As if he knows exactly who’s it from.

“I...I like you, Dan. A lot. And it’s your choice, obviously, if you wanna...answer that text, or not, but regardless, thank you for making this night not just a complete sad cocktail fest at the failure of my relationship.” And Dan nearly starts _fucking tearing up_ in the middle of this goddamn restaurant. 

He glances at his phone, downs the rest of his vodka and takes a deep breath.

“This...this was the most fun I’ve had in a long time – and yeah, I really like you too, like the i-might-go-into-cardiac-arrest-if-you-flirt-with-me-again kind of like you“ - he pauses to let out this nervous kind of breathy half-laugh when he sees Phil smile - “so, what I guess I’m trying to say is, um, I was wondering if I could maybe see you again? Like preferably very soon again? And a lot more after that?”

And Phil laughs, which makes Dan laugh too, and they’re just giggling at each other again like idiots.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” He reaches over to grab Dan’s hand, and their fingers just sort of intertwine, and it’s fucking lovely. Like, actually lovely, the kind of lovely that only happens in daytime TV romcoms or crappy fanfiction.

Really, Dan can’t quite believe Phil’s actually real and not some kind of fantasy coping mechanism he made up so he wouldn’t be lonely. And yeah, maybe he can’t ever go in the coffee shop two streets from his flat ever again - but as long as Phil hasn’t been a figment of his imagination this whole time, he couldn’t care less.

The thought is so disgustingly cliché makes Dan want to projectile vomit, but he could make up a million variations of Cameron in his head – he only has to click one tag on Tumblr or do one google search to find someone with a cute face, a sizeable dick and a copy-paste personality. 

He knows it’s only been one night, and he can’t vouch for the size of Phil’s dick, but he doesn’t think he has the imagination to make up somebody as bright and as lovely and as _real_ as the guy he’s sitting opposite right now.

They only pull away when the waitress comes over to clear their plates. Dan smiles, glances at his phone, and deletes the number. 

***

It actually ends like this, because Phil is a gentleman too (of course he bloody is) and insists on walking Dan back to his car (even though it’s literally twenty metres from the entrance) after Dan insists on splitting the cheque. Phil’s hand is warm and the pale moonlight only makes his paper pale skin look more alive. He’s never walked so slowly in his life.

Phil types his number into Dan’s phone and looks back at him so intensely he might actually evaporate, as if he’s expecting Dan to just sort of fade out of existence as soon as he looks away. He knows the feeling, so he just takes his phone back and smiles, watches his breath turn to cool mist in the night air. Tries not to notice Phil doing his best to eliminate any of the space between them.

“Thank you for being the best thing to come out of being stood up in the history of ever.” Phil says suddenly, quietly, grinning. Dan can’t help but beam back, like it’s suddenly become some sort of reflex.

“Are you serious? Thank you, really – look, if you’re the bloody consolation prize, I wouldn’t care if 1st place got all the stars in the night sky – I think I’d rather have you, anyday.” God, he makes even himself want to throw up, instantly panicked that he’s being too forward - but Phil just laughs at him, cheeks flushed pink, squeezing his hand tightly.

“You’re gross, you know that?”  
“Yeah, you’re gross too, though.”  
“So cheesy it makes me sick.”  
“Yeah. Practically nauseous.”

“Still want to kiss you, though, if that’s alright.” Phil says bluntly and Dan blushes furiously.  
“O-Okay.”

It’s soft and slow and steady at first, Phil gently pressing his lips to Dan’s like it’s a question which he answers like a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in six months. It’s nothing special – it causes no epiphany or numinous experience, but it’s just really _nice_ , and that’s somehow almost better.

They pull apart after a few seconds, hands still interlaced, grins on their faces.

“Yep. Just as disgusting as I thought.”  
“Actually repulsive.”  
“Want to do it again?”  
“Oh god, yeah.” Dan smiles, and leans in again.

***  
It starts like this.  
The restaurant is a cute Japanese place they’ve been meaning to go to for ages, Dan having reserved it weeks ago so they can finally go on a proper date. Phil is a hot guy with an amazing taste in music, video games and delicious sushi who Dan really, really likes – and yeah, maybe it’s just another of Dan’s frequent and fleeting infatuations, and maybe the connection between them is doomed to fizzle out soon enough. 

Maybe it is all directly out of the beginning of some kind of crappy fanfiction – but Dan doesn’t think so. He definitely hopes not. His cousin’s wedding is in two weeks and it’s far too late to cancel his plus one invitation now. He can’t risk losing that deposit on the suit.

And, who knows? It’s astronomically early to even consider thinking about yet, but maybe, just maybe, one day they might be inviting people to a wedding of their own.  
Life’s full of possibilities.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!! this was really fun to write lmao <3  
> hmu my tumblr http://evanescent-lester.tumblr.com/ if you want to stop by and say hello ^-^


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